10,000 Reasons..

...for my heart to sing

• waking up without tears

• being a part of it. "It" being the group, the family, the activity, everything.
• greeting me 
• clean walls
• no "misplaced" shoes, earrings, gloves. Okay, no misplaced of anything in a pair
• dinnertime lasting forever.

Look at their faces. So into the conversation.  A little hoarding going on, but mostly just lovely, lovely chatter,

• the siblings complimenting E, "Buddy, good job! You just walked down the stairs!"
• Ryan telling me that I haven't cried in days.
• Feeling loved.  All six of us.

Stories

   Lots of nights after we say prayers, Zeke loves to hear "his story."  I usually say something like this (with each sentence giving him a Eskimo kiss):

"Mommy hoped for you. Mommy dreamed for you. Mommy prayed for you. Mommy worked for you. Mommy wished for you.  Mommy got on a plane, across the ocean, to get to you."

  Truthfully and unfortunately, many nights Mr E doesn't get the same warm bedtime tuck in because our day often doesn't end well.  We always, always tell him how much we love and want him no matter what.  Every night we tell him no one loves him more than us except God.  Most nights, he plops his thumb in his mouth and rolls over, away from our snuggles.  In the past, if I tried telling him the same bedtime routine as Zeke, he turned away or started interrupting, talking about something else.  But for the past few days, it has been weighing on my heart a lot that he needs to be forced into hearing this affirmations even if he thinks he doesn't want to.
  So last night wasn't different than many other nights.  We'd discovered some "art work," and some lies.  We were bummed because it stinks to end a fun family night that way.  After praying with us, I asked Etienne if he knew what mommy and daddy did to get him home.  He shook his head no.  This is the story I told him..

  "Before you came home, I was in school during the day and at night, when the rest of the world was sleeping, I signed up for extra hours to deliver babies.  During the quiet hours, I filled out every paper in the world that I could find to bring you to me faster.  I stayed awake to find ways and people and papers to help us get to you.  Then when  I got home, I sat in my blue rocker and I could feel my arms hurt because you weren't in them.  I would pray that someone else was making you feel safe until I got to you.  I would read about Hannah, who longed for her son, Samuel.  I felt like I knew her longing so well.

"The day we found out about you, Daddy was in Oregon and I was in the clinic, the last one there except Eloise.  My phone rang and when I picked it up, a man told me to open my email. I sat down, you know where, at my spot in the corner.  And there was your face on my computer screen.  I cried and cried and I couldn't stop smiling.  I hugged Eloise tight.  I called everyone that loved us to tell them that I get to be your mama.  We celebrated that night and began to pack up our bags to go get you."

"A few weeks later, Daddy and I waited in this tiny room with a window at the orphanage.  We held onto each other because we were so excited. We stretched our heads, looking for you.  Soon one of the nuns came up those cement stairs, holding onto you.  We ran to you.  I couldn't pick you up because Daddy already had.  We cried and laughed because we were so happy God let us  be your mommy and daddy."

   The whole time, Etienne didn't turn away from me.  He listened closely, with his thumb in his mouth.  Than he said something so sweet, I will never forget.

"That is a really happy story, Mama."

  Thank you, God, for the little things that mean so much.  For another little piece of Etienne's heart closer to mine.  Maybe, just maybe he felt a little bit of our love.

 

 

 

Resolutions (yada, yada, yada)

Welcome to 2013.
Whew.  I am not one for setting resolutions....I kind of think there is no time like the present to make a change.  That being said, I am contemplating fresh starts, new approaches...who am I kidding?
Resolutions:

• TOPIC TUESDAY: I want to hear from my readers and engage in lively discussions.  Thank you, Kylie! I am all for free speech and I wouldn't put myself out there the way I do if I was going to take every opinion personally.  So, coming next Tuesday, I will start posting a topic. 
• REFERENCES: I had debated moving to wordpress but losing my archive makes me sad...instead, I'm playing around with the format and creating more links/tabs to adoption and attachment stuff.
• BOOK CLUB: I would love your thoughts on this....reading a book only on adoption and attachment? On parenting? On the fiscal cliff?

  On that note, I still want my blog to be my blog.  There are a lot of adoption bloggers out there.  Lots of mama bloggers. Faith bloggers.  I suppose my blog has evolved into all three.  I'm still gonna share our stories and pieces of my heart; the good, the real and the in-between.
  How do you make a kid know love?  I suppose this has been my quest for some time.  The theme of so many actions I take. To make Etienne feel and know our love.  This is weighing on me today.
  Lately, we've had some good days.  We've also had some new, bad behaviors that I can't share because I want to honor my son's privacy. Last night, after some tough conversation, all three of his siblings were crying.  They were crying because they love him, they want him to be "normal," they want him with them for the long haul.  He heard and saw their tears but if he felt the love behind it, if he felt guilt or even satisfaction, he didn't show it.  All those tears were out of love for him.
  I am not sure if anything hurts me more than some of my children crying on behalf of my other child.  Truthfully, there is a little corner of my brain that whispers that this is my fault.  My children are grieving because of what we have done in this family.  But than God whispers in my ear and reminds me and I know once again that that's the Enemy tearing into my heart, making me doubt what is good and right.  There isn't a lot that is worse than feeling at cause for your child's pain; but it is worse to know that your child still doubts that he is loved, wanted and worth dying for.  That is worse.
  So my other hope for 2013 will be that this is the year.  The year that all my children know the depths of their Father's love for them.  That all four, all four, will believe in their core that they are worth dying for.  That someone did indeed die for them.  Because that, my friends, is a game changer.  I so want 2013 to be our  game changer.

Each kiddo painted their tree today with their thumbprints.  We live in a forest, at the top of a hill, so trees  (and those roots) are a tangible thing to associate family with.  Thank you, pinterest.

...the weary world rejoiced

After Thanksgiving, I will tell you that my bar for the holiday season was so low, you could have just stepped over it.  I anticipated the month of December to be super stressful.

     God totally showed up.  We did things like the Jesse Tree and NOTHING WAS DESTROYED.  Huge.  I took Etienne on a date to a Christmas concert and we stayed for almost the whole show.  Ryan has been able to have the kids join his engineering students in building a robot; and to date no one has gotten hurt.  Molly has had friends over without being humiliated with nudity or inappropriate comments.  Some of our dearest friends Kat and Lonnell came all the way from San Jose for a visit and never once saw any of my boys naked, breaking something or hurting someone (not that these friends would have minded).  No one got lost or hit by a carriage when we went to The Plaza, Ryan and my old stomping ground.  Each Higgins and Holz family event we attended on time (European, that is) and we didn't even make early exits because we'd worn out our welcome (I think, don't burst my bubble if you heard otherwise).

     It has been by and large a season of joy.  My head keeps spinning "a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices" over and over again.  I can't tell you the depths of gratitude my heart feels to have such sacred, peaceful time.  I shared a few pics below.

Time with cousins far.

...and cousins near.

Time for creative mischief

   

Time with old friends in favorite places; the Country Club Plaza with Ryan's oldest, best friend, Adam and his wife (one of my favorites), Hillary.

   

Yes, we do the zoo all year round.  Enjoying time with our San Jose friends.

 

The THING About Hair.

     Last night my fab hubby and I spent literally over 30 minutes picking dead grass out of Etienne's hair.  That was AFTER I had scrubbed, conditioned and picked it out.  That was AFTER his teacher painstakingly picked out rocks and other playground debris.  When I say that thing is a vacuum, I don't joke!  And, yes, I have used a vacuum on his head before to get the sand or whatever out.  It sorta works but his hair has grown beyond that stage of using
     There are great resources out there for both of my boys' hair.  Sites like "chocolate hair, vanilla care" cater to families like ours.  Which I find helpful but sort of lame.  I really want to learn from the source.  So I email my black friends.  I ask at the barber shop.  I strike up conversations in the elevator.  The majority of the time, my inquiring mind is well received.  There is a lot of pride about hair and I can see that in Etienne.   Than there is that hygiene issue.  In my head I was thinking, as I pulled out a leaf, "this looks like a homeless child." I know, I crossed a line.  Darn it.
     So the easiest solution is to shave it all off, right?  Just go back to our every other week trip to the barber shop.  Keep it short and fresh.  The easiest solution isn't always right.  Here's why.

No one else can manage the Afro but me.

     I am not saying that to seek out praise.  In case you are just tuning in, my kid doesn't really find a lot of use for me.  Most of the time, he seeks out everyone but me.  But daddy doesn't know how to apply the right product or when.  His brothers like to pat the hair, but they are too rough with the pick.  This is a mama only category.  Also, the big hair gets him positive attention everywhere he goes.  He's already going to stand out a lot of the time in his life and I think that if this gives him a bit more of a confidence booster, than bring it.

      As of this morning, it took me 8 minutes to comb the hair out.  8 minutes of Mommy and E time.  That is why I am going to stop with the threatening ("if you make 'waves' in the bathroom again, the 'fro goes") and continue to scrub the tub of the debris after bath time each night.

Glance at Crazyville

Whish, whish, swish.  The sound of Etienne and his layers sneaking around at night.  Our night time insomnia has returned and the constant, really bad behaviors have decreased during the day.  I have no explanation of why.  I can't really say that my "babying" him or doing my midwife tricks helped.  I tried.   And I would prefer the uneasiness of our nighttime prowler and the lack of sleep any day.  I do less sleep on a regular basis; you know babies prefer the nighttime.  

Reality is that we will eb and flow without any rhyme or reason for our attachment behaviors.  Reality is funny.  I am so grateful that finding underwear in my entry light cracks me up; 2 years ago, I would have been grumpy that my child was throwing underwear.  Sure, we may need to replace some dry wall and clear the ducts from army men and play dough, but it's keeping me out of the loony bin.


     Molly and I have fun with the random findings in our house.  Here is a glimpse of the week.  This is totally normal.  I love this.

A pair of Batman jammies found  on my dresser mirror

Our new eraser light switch. You can find one in  all the bedrooms.

"What's the problem?" Utility broom in the bathroom, check.

Amazing Grace

I have hesitated to blog post-vacation. I could fill the pages in on awesome Blake is (he turned 6 while flying down the Alpine slides of Steamboat Springs), how Molly loved geocaching or that Zeke kept saying "When are we going on vacation?". I'd love to post the boys faces during fireworks at the Royals/Rockies game, singing "Proud to be an American." Instead I am cherishing it all in my heart.
Truth be told, post-vacation is an ugly mess of lying, wet pants and 3 steps back for Mr. E. My heart is broken because the lies are all for me. The rule breaking is for mama, not daddy. The expert in our back pocket says that I can be thankful that my son has such a strong bond toward his father. That his personality will probably always favor and respect men more than women. That's great in writing. But my heart still hurts.
Tonight, after a rough day, I rocked him and I said "I love you forever." His eyes glazed and I asked him what I just said. His reply: "That Daddy is sad when I lie." My gut reaction was to want to shake him. And then these words came on:
"The Lord has promised good to me,
His word, my hope secures,
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures"
And all I can do is rock my baby. Rock and sing. Rock and sing.